The Poetry Marathon

I hear you

as you travel inside me.

Our scent lingers on my skin,

infusing me with memories.

My tongue washes you,

gentle strokes,

all at once hungry and full,

I feel quiet in your arms,

resting in your thoughts,

dreams shared.

I am smiling,

dancing,

living,

holding my own passions,

as are you.

We are dressed in the threads of years spent becoming,

Separate,

Together,

A life

Boarding.

The light flashes, seatbelt, seatbelt, seatbelt.

Arms and legs, face mask, head down.

Moving, wheels on tar, faster, faster, faster.

Rising – Rising – Up.

Ears screaming, pressure, ouch.

Seetling, Altitude, Flight.

Seatbelt, seatbelt, seatbelt.

Movement, wheels down isle.

Drinks, snacks, relief, relax.

Chatter, crying, bathroom,

The light flashes, seatbelt, seatbelt, seatbelt.

Desending – Down – Bumping – Bump

Wheels on tar, seatbelt, seatbelt, seatbelt,

Exit.

I have always belonged to the wild,

my legs seeking the solitude of long

grasses and bracken ferns, the queitness

of a forest full birds singing, the touch

of bark as I brushed against the landscape.

My eyes have never seen anything more

honest than the leaf, felt such strength,

such hope between my fingers. This

place is love, the smell of love, I feel it

seeping in. filling the empty places

left from town living, from to many

people, from a prison of expectation,

more and more, I shrink there my

mind brimming with nonsance, with

fear, so every morning l rise and go

home to the forest, to her songs

for my heart has always known

how to speak tree, how to taste

love, and my body knows how to

belong, for here l soar like a bird,

One step then another, another on and on.

We start under stars, Venus bright above us,

a trickle of light silhouetting the trees on the hill.

Lights float in darkness, the ocean singing invades

our bodies, as we reach the cliffs. We walk in silence

listeningto thr earths voice as we follow the path deep

intothe wild, we rest watching the sky, stars disappearing,

sunlight reaching around the earths rough curves. We

turn retracing our steps, but not our thoughts, One

step, then another, another on and on.

I climbed the heart of the world

Every rocky step, clinging to

its worn surface, Above the red

desert, the mountains and into

the tower, where the soul is,

I become real here, a god,

watching over the action

below. My thoughts raining

down, calling for revolution

Last line from – Contemporary debates in urban planning.

• Towers and into the real world where the action is

I stretch my spirit into blue, catching the breeze,

l let my self fall and drift, with its breath. There are

some moments we move as one the flow, the dip,

the trust, in fine bone and feather, tracing invisible

stories over and through sunrise and moonset, the

land below a dream of soft white sand, a burrow of

a fairnt call in my belly, a beginning that waits while

l soar.

I wander the stars, in a boat made of

sky, following dreams in a lullaby.

I carry the moon,the sun and earth

in my coat pockets, trinkets of mirth.

They grumble and moan and dance in

the swoth  tickling me gently as they

wish to be free to roam the sky just

like me.

So l let them play among the stars

and now we play chase  with an ethereal

glee.

For freedom gave me friends and more fun than before, we have all grown smiles to big to ignore.

Dawn, scans the treeline,  searching

for dusk, the heat of noon hides him

behind a mask of light. The bottle in

Dawn’s  grip contains a magic porridge,

which once inside Dusks belly causes

lethargy, Dusk waits for Dawn, for the

game to begin within the his strange cottage

with shimmering walls of light a trap

waiting to become a cage. Dawn is clever

for she knows to win she must loose

becoming a firefly , she zooms though

a gap, a slither of shadow while Dusk

takes a nap, coating him in porridge and

pushing him out for the to end so the

morning  can come about.

I have become a translation,

a lost language,  spoken in the

vast  space between , a new

version of myself, stalking the

corridors of education, of the

past,  fierce and curvaceous,

almost sexy as the appear

from the invisible future that

grows out my hands.

1. Her breath laced with the taste of fear, lay  hidden beneath the rags, hoping hate didn’t reach out its cold fingers,  it’s ugly thoughts tainting her with  pregitious ,  hoping her leaves and roots   medicines  of earth, could save her from mans hunger , from societys  greed.